


Why Princesses Wait in Towers

by nelda



Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Coming of Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 10:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15411387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nelda/pseuds/nelda
Summary: After Link leaves for Termina, Zelda wrestles with feelings she can't describe and memories she can't place. Link may be the key to understanding her whirlwind of emotions, but that lazy boy doesn't seem to be coming back for her. Is it all part of growing up, or is there something else going on?





	Why Princesses Wait in Towers

 

_ PROLOGUE _

“ _I am praying that your journey be a safe one.”_

Sixteen months later, Princess Zelda was fuming with a red hot anxiety that manifested itself in several troubling ways. All manner of resident of and visitor to Hyrule Castle alike experienced the insufferable wave of tortured energy that Zelda emitted without restraint. She dripped with more disdain than most Hyrulian teenagers her age. She disappeared throughout the day. She refused to sleep in her bedroom or dine in the dining hall. She wore her hair down and lounged around the halls in trousers. Her entire countenance was one of a cucco on the defensive. Her handmaids, servants, and father were largely at a loss. How were they to know what she had been counting?

Sixteen months.

Zelda sat lifelessly wedged between the ornate rails of a golden banister in the great hall. Her handmaids had wrestled her into a dress early in the morning, but nevertheless she had tucked and tied it into a pair of hose for herself. She straddled the rails with her naked knees, a tableau which had been scorned by her lady-in-waiting as “unsightly” before she huffed and walked away. Her several ladies-in-waiting seemed to have conspired, as she had recently heard the same speech from each of them:

“You’re not a toddler anymore,” they would say. “You’re becoming a woman. Showing your legs, walking around in your underclothes… It’s beginning to have a different connotation.”

“Why have you grown so difficult?” they would ask. “What becomes a princess, becomes her kingdom. Are you determined to make Hyrule so much stormier?”

No! They didn’t know what she was sparing them. If she was a storm, her outward behavior was made up of mere droplets. Zelda knew no calm. If her body was forlorn, it was because her spirit was fighting tide after tide of exhaustion. If her attitude was sharp, it was because she drew arms against fear. If her eyes were empty, it was because she was searching inside for the answers.

“There’s a weight on my chest that keeps getting heavier,” she would say.

“That’s your body changing. You’re becoming a beautiful young woman,” they would respond.

Somewhere, she was a beautiful young woman. And Zelda hated her.

“Making good use of your day, I see,” jested a deep voice from behind her. It was Impa. Zelda didn’t look.

Impa gripped the banister with one hand and leaned forward to catch a glimpse of Zelda’s face.

“You look well,” she joked again.

Zelda remained silent. She was having a Loneliness Day. Loneliness Days often came after a rare night of sleep. Usually, she would wake up in an anxious huff, unable to remember a nightmare. On Loneliness Days, Zelda found it best to cope by situating herself into large crowds of people. She liked the banister in the great hall because she had an excellent view of castle staff coming, going, and otherwise scampering around their day. Of course, she preferred Castle Town, but she had since been banned from leaving Hyrule Castle grounds since the bombchu incident.

Impa followed Zelda’s gaze to the front entryway of the great hall.

“Do you think he’ll walk right in?” she asked.

“Who?” Zelda retorted, perhaps a little too quickly for her own liking.

Impa didn’t respond. Zelda didn’t repeat herself.

“Well,” Impa said, after a moment of silence, “If you’re feeling up to it, the training grounds are empty for the evening. We have the opportunity to spar in private. Of course, you’ll have to eat something first.”

Silence.

“Unless you’re happy just as you are.”

Impa felt a breeze on her shoulder.

“I’m not going to indulge this obsession any longer, Princess,” Impa said coldly. “When you decide you have interests again, you know where to find me.”

“I’m not obsessed!” she shouted, eyes still forward. “I’m not obsessed. Something real is happening.”

Impa leaned over the banister again, catching Zelda’s eye.

“Oh?”

“Yes!” she said, hoping to reach Impa’s core. After a moment of hesitation, she looked away, with furrowed brow, down at the activity below. “It just isn’t happening here.”

“Hm!” Impa laughed. “Well, Your Highness, when you know where it _is_ happening...”

... _you know where to find me_ , Impa had probably intended to say, but most people in conversation with Princess Zelda would find themselves too exhausted to finish their sentences. When Zelda turned around, Impa was gone.

It was happening elsewhere. Everything was happening elsewhere.

Zelda looked down to see the kitchen staff hurrying a succulent roast into the dining hall. She supposed her father was already in there. She saw some of her father’s servants, scurrying around, carrying books and ledgers from one room to another. She saw some of her own handmaids. She looked deep into their eyes for signs of life. They gave no indication that they were dead, but Zelda struggled to see life in much of Hyrule. Her subjects often seemed to have their own corpses superimposed onto their living bodies. The optical illusion strained her.

In a moment, several doors closed and the bustling activity in the great hall melted into silence. The occasional laugh could be heard from behind the heavy doors of the dining hall. Zelda picked herself up. She wouldn’t last here much longer.

 

* * *

 

The doors to the Royal Stables were heavy for someone of Zelda’s stature, but she managed to force enough of a Zelda-sized gap between the doors, just perfect for little Zeldas to squeeze through.

Horses, cats, and all other critters in the Royal Stable were not beholden to the curfew of Hyrule Castle, which made it just the right place for Zelda to be at night on Loneliness Days. The horses perked up at her entrance. She meticulously paced down the stable, stopping at each stall to pat the horse on the nose, to feel its hot breath on her hands, to touch her fingers to its sides, to feel its skin twitch underneath her. She valued their longevity.

There was one beast in the team of white mares used for special events and parades that Zelda particularly preferred. She touched the mare’s neck with her face, but the mare, knowing what was waiting for her, nudged Zelda’s torso. Zelda had brought her a carrot from the kitchen. She held it out to the mare with the flat of her palm.

“Thank you,” Zelda murmured to the mare as she crunched on the treat. Zelda thanked her every time she visited, although she couldn’t remember why.

Sixteen months, and one day.


End file.
